tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65756236349940279532014-10-06T22:59:50.173-04:00Between the CrosshairsOnly the whisper hits the pavement...Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-62231838946999197972013-10-01T14:30:00.002-04:002013-10-01T14:30:40.187-04:00From the Ashes.. New Life Will AriseIt has been more than a year. More than 12 months since I came to this secret corner and poured out my heart. In a year I have imploded. Exploded. Lost my faith, gained my strength, lost love, found it and lost it again. I reinvented, I hid away in my closet. I gave, I took. I watched my hero die. I felt life growing deep inside me. I brought life into my world, and closed life out of it. I am not who I was.. and I am not quite who I will be. I was.. and am..lost.<br />A work in progress.<br />Ink on the page.<br /><br />There is so much to say.. yet nothing to say at all. I have to start somewhere.. there are so many stories to tell in such a small space. One at a time.. one step at a time. One broken heart at a time.<br /><br />Once I loved openly. Carefree.. come what may. I gave everything. It was everything. Until it was nothing. We ran before we walked. We became carnage. And all that came after was collateral damage. Bruised inside and out.. new scars on old. I was nothing but ash. Burned to the ground and blown across the bleak skyline. Bits of us. All of me.<br /><br />And out of the dust came you. I held you at arms length. In awe. I had the best first date in my entire life. I fell in love with you just then.. somewhere between Billy Joel and Phil Collins... and just after I stood on that curb and wished you would kiss me. Hours into the night we lay.. curled together on the couch rushing to share all that we were before that moment. Comparing.. learning. Achingly close. It inflamed old wounds and made me run... driving you home and buying myself hours to think about what my heart wanted. <br /><br />But before long my phone was buzzing...<br /><br />You wanted to make me dinner. I was scared. Scared of how you made me feel. Too safe. Too comfortable. We ate.. we curled up in front of a movie and I fell asleep with my head on your chest. You asked me to stay.. and I ran. I gave everything once and lost myself. I went home... to breathe.<br /><br />And before long my phone was buzzing...<br /><br />You wanted a label. You wanted to claim me. You wanted to be mine. More than anything, I wanted to be yours. Together, we decided. Together. Come what may. A promise I made with all I had left in the late afternoon Sunday sun. You're driving this train.<br /><br />Fourty-five days later you made a promise to me. Quietly we sat together in the front seat of your truck, at the very place we met. You laid a wrapped package in my lap. It was almost Christmas. Layer after layer of paper.. boxes inside of boxes. Until there was only one the size of my palm left. The clock rushed into midnight when you spoke the words engraved on my heart. Still, today. Scorched into the fibres of me. 45 days.<br /><br />You chose me. You wanted me. Always. If only you had known how very damaged I was. If only I had known how impossible it would be for me to give what I wanted. What you deserved. We made a life together.. and then we created life together. And then we fell apart.<br /><br />And here we lie. In pieces...two people, one space. One tie between us. How to fix things? Where to begin? Is there a start or are we too far past the finish line?<br /><br />All we share now is distant memories... and this:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FqRxvXGolTo/UksUp4qbejI/AAAAAAAAATs/WVmdC5ltLoo/s1600/Ava.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FqRxvXGolTo/UksUp4qbejI/AAAAAAAAATs/WVmdC5ltLoo/s320/Ava.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br />She owns me. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-43924372794087239412012-06-02T23:39:00.002-04:002012-06-02T23:39:34.705-04:00Swept AwayIn a crowded parking lot of a Saturday afternoon shopping mall, you turned to me.<br />Your green eyes flashing, you stopped, you stared. You smiled.<br />While the traffic moved around us, you lowered your head to mine. Close enough for me to see the beautiful yellow striations in your eyes.<br />A smile rippled across your face, your fingers found their way into my hair, and then you kissed me.<br /><br />The world fell away.<br /><br />A passerby saw us, melded together on the pavement, and honked. Our lips spread into smiles under the weight of our love, and we laughed. It was everything. YOU are everything.<br /><br />How I love to love you.<br /><br />This is where I belong.<br /><br />Always.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-63152880418035320702012-05-29T21:14:00.004-04:002012-05-29T21:14:50.934-04:00Swamp WaterToday. Today, today, TODAY.<br />Today, I am frustrated.<br />Today, I am lost in my own head.<br />Today.<br /><br />I am frustrated that I still have these days. These days of murky headed muddiness, where the world comes to me through strained pond water. I long for fresh air, but I feel like I just keep breathing silt. Yesterday I was on top of the world. You and I giggled like co-conspirators while we lazed between cool sheets and drank coffee from a single cup. Your green eyes were clear, full of love and mirth, easy to read and to respond to. I felt safe, happy, loved. All the things you bring to my everydays. Today I couldn't do it.<br /><br />You are still you, and you were still you while we shared space. Your green eyes were the same, but my messages are all mixed up, like there is a misfiring somewhere in my brain. You asked me if I was okay, and I could only say yes. Truthfully, when you are here, I AM okay - even today. Nothing is stronger than you - and I am thankful. But all too soon you were gone, and I was left with this sagging heart in a boggy chest. Swampy.<br /><br />I tried all the tricks. I played the puppet, smiling, laughing, moving around - but soon I got all caught up in the strings. I plucked away at the guitar, and found some peace. Then there was you, with all your beauty and love, raining down on my battered frame. Your key. Our heart. So perfect. Your words rescued me from near implosion. A few hours later, the darkness found its roots again. Even the sun will not chase it away.<br /><br />I am frustrated - I feel like sometimes those old demons keep me on the short leash. I don't want to, I don't want them. I want to feel like I did yesterday - INVINCIBLE and WHOLE. But I only feel damaged and destructive. My mind goes after itself, spinning reality into misconception, belief into impossibility, value into tarnish. I feel like I am up to my knees in this swamp and I can't find the exit.<br /><br />I want to go back to that night, not too long ago. I want to be wrapped in your arms in the darkness, listening as you fall into an easy sleep. I want to hear the sounds of your slumber quieting my thoughts, feel the strength of your body curled around me. For hours. I want to wake up to find&nbsp; you pulling me back, close to you, into you. I feel like I need to hold on to something, before the mud sucks me down. I want to stop being haunted by all this old garbage.<br /><br />Please hold my soul... My hands are tired and my fingers are slipping.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-83837793752664403662012-05-04T21:51:00.001-04:002012-05-04T21:57:30.534-04:00Dragons Be DamnedBeing the person I used to be, meant that I could trust no one. And nothing. Strings were ALWAYS attached, and I always paid a price. Sometimes, that price was way too high. So I built the wall. I learned to work with bricks and mortar, with steel and padlock, and I built a space for my heart to live. I erected my fortress, I dug my moat - alone. I hung my hopes on the wall and left my soul in the dungeon, hiding behind my padlocks. Dragons be damned -&nbsp; no one, and no thing - would ever singe me again.<br /><br />When your life turns you inside out, it changes you. When it happens again and again, you stop noticing. You learn to live with your insides showing, walking through the world raw and bleeding, and forgetting that you were ever whole in the first place. And each elbow, each poke, each word falling on your back, feels like a razor blade. It cuts swiftly and cleanly through the softest parts of you, deep inside where the light doesn't shine. When it happens again and again, you wear the scars like a suit of armor.<br /><br />You're left with a feeling of difference. And indifference. The world starts to feel like something that happens on the other side of the glass, and you walk alone in the quiet. Its safer here, where no connections are made, no risks are taken, no voices are heard but for those inside your head. And you fool yourself into thinking you can trust those. You begin to see that it will always be this way, YOU will always be this way - a disconnected spectator, listening only to the traumas inside you.<br /><br />And when you get stuck up in your own head, when things are really dark and hopeless, you pull up the drawbridge and hide away. You get stuck staring at the moth-eaten hopes rotting behind the glass, counting the wounds, and listening to the screaming. It is endless. And brutal.<br /><br />And then this thing happened. And I didn't see it coming, and I am STILL learning what it means. I came across another soul on my side of the glass, and I could see we are the same. You are inside out and tattered, worn through in some places, dark and tortured, and exactly like me. You get it. I see your armor. You wear it and never seem to notice its weight. You love and you hate with the same fervent passion. It is all or nothing. And suddenly WE are SOMETHING. You bring with you all the colours of the world.<br /><br />Yesterday I was under siege. I was locked in the darkness with my anxieties and worries, bleeding on the outside and charred on the in. I rushed to do what I always have - pull up the bridge and hit lockdown. Switch off the sound and hide. And then your face appeared in the closing spaces. You knew what was happening and you came, even though I did not ask. You hurried. You rescued. And for the first time - I gave you MY key.<br /><br />I learned what it meant to be able to count on someone yesterday. To know you can trust that. Never again will I have to be locked in my world alone. You earned the key. I promise that I will always let you in - that this drawbridge STAYS down.<br /><br />Dragons be damned.<br /><br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-16963753563048523112012-03-28T14:35:00.001-04:002012-03-28T14:35:36.263-04:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6foCUHalxMY/T3NZtMelOMI/AAAAAAAAATU/4ODUF7k6UH0/s1600/DAG+new+hair+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6foCUHalxMY/T3NZtMelOMI/AAAAAAAAATU/4ODUF7k6UH0/s320/DAG+new+hair+2012.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Thank you Green Eyes.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-30576569629774819292012-03-20T18:40:00.000-04:002012-03-20T18:49:24.538-04:00A Million Little PiecesIt took 31 years to scatter them. High and low, under and over, and sometimes around. Some in the darkest places in the universe, and others down the toilet. Pieces lie in the sunshine, curling under the drying morning dew. Others lie broken, ground under heels into the cracks in the pavement. I feared that some were certainly lost forever.<br />It took 16 months to gather them all. To sit quietly, thoughtfully, and purposefully fit them together. Some snapped in place immediately, some needed coaxing to nestle into the next, work we poured over together in whispers.<br />When I needed another try, you patiently dropped another piece into the palm of my hand with a smile. Some reassurance. Some love. When I needed a break you pushed our work aside and just held me while I trembled. When I grew afraid you propped me up, and gently turned my face to the image. To see what you saw, and not the yesterdays.<br />But when I looked up from my work, you had gone. I didn't know it, but the hourglass had run out. All I had left was this outline of me, a big hole where my heart should be. Those pieces are missing.<br />You had them in your pocket...<br />Unfinished. <br /><br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-24280968122495113122012-03-19T17:22:00.000-04:002012-03-19T17:22:05.525-04:00Where To Find MyselfI've been sitting here in the sunshine. The music plays in the background, the words parade across the page, but my heart is elsewhere.<br />Despite the warmth of the sun on my cheek, I don't feel real. It feels burnt and somehow, decidedly not mine. Not anyone's.<br />The breeze blows shadows across the walls and they remind me of memories I have lost. Objects just out of my periphery, taunting me with their impossible closeness. Their darkness. My losses.<br />Voices seem hollow, missing the notes that mean something. Missing the life, the joy, the love I once found hidden in their richness. Paper thin.<br />I am lost somewhere in my head, in the dusty corners with no windows. It is suffocating and old, the stench of decay for the things I have forgotten overpowering. And though I reach for it, no hand closes around mine. <br />Where are the colours?Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-46295954516218360312012-03-14T13:37:00.000-04:002012-03-14T13:37:01.732-04:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oaG4pUDlNw8/T2DXGMwaeZI/AAAAAAAAATM/VD9GuP5AXqM/s1600/Parent+of+a+Child+with+Mental+Illness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oaG4pUDlNw8/T2DXGMwaeZI/AAAAAAAAATM/VD9GuP5AXqM/s320/Parent+of+a+Child+with+Mental+Illness.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-65495268947634872872012-02-23T16:46:00.003-05:002012-02-23T16:47:10.070-05:00Turning Grief Inside Out - Reviewing Claire Bidwell Smith's "The Rules of Inheritance"I have had the opportunity to participate in the BlogHer book review campaign and had the pleasure of reading <a href="http://www.blogher.com/bookclub/now-reading-rules-inheritance">"The Rules of Inheritance" by Claire Bidwell Smith</a>. I read it cover to cover in one afternoon and am pleased to share my thoughts with you all! <br /><br />The Rules of Inheritance is an honest portrayal of a girl finding her way, and her self, through grief. Bidwell Smith uses Elizabeth Kubler-Ross' five stages of grief to section out her memoir and organize her life events and thoughts according to the grieving process. Through denial, anger, bargaining, and acceptance, Claire tells the story of a girl struggling to define herself by the loss of her mother. The chapters provide a cross-section of Claire's life and sense of self, opening rabbit-holes for the reader to gaze into. At first, this seems to chop up the narrative, bringing the reader to peer across decades of Claire's life as if through a keyhole. However, as the book progresses, there is a masterful deliberateness in Bidwell Smith's vignettes that showcase both a life of chaos and rebellion, and a childlike yearning for a mother gone. It reminds us that life, like grief, is not linear or static.<br /><br />This memoir is one of the most honest accounts of a daughter's grief, at times even uncomfortable in it's bluntness. Claire expresses a revulsion for her mother's dry, gray, cracked and dying body - yet also a desire to be able to relieve her suffering. Claire at once wants to rub Vaseline on her mother's cracked lips and to run away from the sight of this dying monster. The juxtaposition of her avoidance to witness the death of her mother and her almost compulsion to witness the death of her father, maps years of growth from child to woman. In caring so carefully for her father in his final months, Claire also finally allowed herself to process the loss of her mother. Bidwell Smith's treatment of these memories is poignant, and heartbreakingly beautiful. <br /><br />Claire Bidwell Smith peppers what could be a very dark and heavy memoir with lighter moments, funny anecdotes from fumbling relationships or silly mistakes that everyone experiences on their paths through life. These serve to shift the focus from death to life, to the impossibility of finding yourself when you are most lost. One night stands, failed relationships, self-loathing, anger and fear come crashing together in Claire's life just as her father is dying. It is in that death that she truly finds herself, that she stops trying desperately to define herself as different, and find sameness through bereavement.<br /><br />Bidwell Smith uses the fifth and final stage of grief - acceptance - as a turning point in Claire's search for herself. In the loss of her father Claire finds a life for herself, and a way to reconcile the child, woman, mother, and orphan inside of her. This book is a beautiful portrayal of a lost girl who found womanhood by sitting with her grief. Bidwell Smith writes with a fluidity, almost conversationally, in complete thoughts and observations, yet so astoundingly real and from the heart that the reader feels like a witness to her rebirth. A must read for anyone interested in turning the inner workings of the mind inside out, and finding broken perfection within.<br /><br />**This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club, however the thoughts and opinions expressed within are my own**Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-4372679642269910572012-02-15T00:49:00.000-05:002012-02-15T00:49:42.335-05:00RebirthIt's hard to believe.<br />What happened to you, happened to me.<br /><br />Today was just another Hallmark holiday. One I have always had a particular hatred for. Black Tuesday is what I would have called it. A day of forced romantic notions, cliche gestures and society approved affection. It has never gone well for &nbsp;me, either ignored or ending very badly. Sometimes it came so thick with fake declarations that I almost choked on them, ending the night horribly with the bitter taste of almost in the back of my throat. Lies and red roses. Two things I really never had the stomach for.<br /><br />But then you came crashing into my soul and turned my world upside down. On our first Valentine's Day I asked you to be my UN-Valentine. That was as far as I was willing to go. It was the first time I didn't want to claw my eyes out at the sight of pink and red hearts. But I was also very willing to keep mine under black wraps. It was before you knew how to push on my edges.<br /><br />Somewhere along the line you found the door. It is hard to say whether I opened it for you, or if you tumbled into my damaged heart with your wounds bleeding. Our wounds bleeding.<br /><br />I cannot say anymore that I am the woman you fell into. My perceptions have changed. I have changed. You dug up those old worry stones inside of me and gave me a locked room to examine them. You have shown me what I could never see, the value of my shattered life and the beauty in my broken-ness. That scars are not something to hide, but a map to run your fingers across. That in all of that pain, there is pleasure to be taken away. That I am not alone. And somehow, will never be again. There is a wholeness in that notion that is beyond expression.<br /><br />Today we shared another rip in time, skin to skin. Our hearts beat so close to the surface now that I can see the tremors against the skin. There is no fear, only us. Wide open and heart-breakingly beautiful. Your skin smelled like spring, like the first fresh breeze on a sunny day. Like the freedom I have so desperately wanted to claim for my own. Like hope. And I cried.<br /><br />Today you are my Valentine. You came to me to celebrate who we are, not some cliche ideal. You did not bring roses that I despise, you gave me boxes of my favorite coffee. You did not bring me empty verses on a cardboard promise, you spoke to the beauty that is US. I laid my hand against your chest so that I could FEEL your words reverberate inside me. Low and rich tones that hold all my tomorrows intact. We loved today like we love every day-fiercely, truly, wholly.<br /><br />I am not the woman you fell into. I am a better woman for ever having you in my life. Your love has healed what I thought forever broken and made me fearless. I give to you my everything sweet man, not only on this day, but for all of my days. Until there is no more in this life, or any other.<br /><br />Happy Valentine's Day my love... yesterday, today and always.<br /><br />Yours.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-14767441498659301542012-01-23T08:34:00.001-05:002012-01-23T09:49:33.739-05:00Until There IS No MoreToday I am guest posting at <a href="http://chrisahickey.blogspot.com/2012/01/until-there-is-no-more.html"> The Mindstorm</a>, where the lovely Chrisa has given me a space to discuss the challenges of raising a child with mental illness. Come and give it a read!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IaQZhGwXshc/TxzW90ETmcI/AAAAAAAAATE/hx8R27a1UQ8/s1600/Pout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IaQZhGwXshc/TxzW90ETmcI/AAAAAAAAATE/hx8R27a1UQ8/s320/Pout.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-16227668233988148312012-01-14T21:48:00.004-05:002012-01-14T22:01:44.843-05:00A Pocket Full of ThistlesIt was one of those moments. You know the ones, when you are flying through life with a pocket full of promises and a head full of dreams. It is always those moments that steal your breath with dizzying happiness, when your hair blows in the wind from the roots and your soul whispers your most secret hopes to your heart. It is always when you are caught up in the expanse of life - when you can see clearly the endless blue sky - when your feet are solidly planted one in front of the other - that something turns. Suddenly everything seems different, although you cannot put your finger on it. Something has shifted beneath your weight, knocking you off balance.<br /><br />It is funny how something can look so completely different when you only turn it over in your hand. A slight flick of the wrist. The thing is, you really never know what you'll find on the underside. Good, bad or indifferent. Now I know that some people resist looking for the other side of things. Some prefer the silver lining, others thrive in the tarnish. I've always thought myself to be one who considers all sides. Who contemplates across the landscape. I really do not know if I intentionally refused to turn over the penny, or if I really thought I had. If ever a Wiz there was, indeed. Like milk down the paper funnel, perceptions slip through my fingers into nothing.<br /><br />No matter how many times I reach into the top hat, I come up empty handed. No solid truths, and no damn bunny. Ever.<br /><br />I unwittingly stumbled into the thistles, and I've been trying to ease them out of my skin ever since. Like a jumble of life size puzzle pieces, I've been pushing on the sides and trying to make them fit into a logic. I tell myself that I am not invested in the actual truth, but like a scientist, interested only in the process of making one fit. But deep down I know that isn't true. It can't be. <br /><br />It can only be part of the process, because eventually, I will have to view the bigger picture it creates. And I will have to draw some conclusion. I will have to decide if somewhere in the bricks I place; heavy, unyielding, and real; there is room for a door.<br /><br />And if there is, whether it is an entrance, or an exit? <br /><br />If anyone is looking for me, I'll be under the oak tree, pulling on the threads to that magic curtain and waiting for the big reveal.<br /><br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-5670203484847475072012-01-01T14:22:00.004-05:002012-01-01T14:51:46.864-05:00Last YearLast night I read over the story of us. I traced the patterns of our words, the progression of our thoughts, and measured the distance of how hard we fell. You promised you would catch me, and at every juncture I see your arms cradled around my heart.<br /><br />I fingered the old wounds we came with, now scarred over. They are the raised ribbons of the years without each other. They are a matched set. Like bookends, we mirror those hurts in each other. We see beneath the lined surface and understand that there is healing left to be done. With patience born of a thousand traumas, we spread our hands over our broken hearts and allow the circuit between us to form new beginnings.<br /><br />How many times have we started over? I can see the stairs we have climbed, some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">leapt</span> over in our reckless rush to each other, some tripped over painfully. Each time we have lifted our feet, we have moved together towards tomorrow, hands clasped and hearts smashing. Each time our feet landed, they crushed fear, anxiety, and old demons under our toes. And sometimes, one of us fell down. Always, ALWAYS, the other has sat patiently on that step, fingers outstretched to help the other find their way back. We cannot leave one another behind. We are old <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">soulmates</span> in broken bodies. Never again will we be abandoned or betrayed.<br /><br />We have raised each other from the ashes time and time again, twisted and turned shards of each other into complete masterpieces. We developed the ability to look past the beautiful green irises and see the soul that lies beneath. We talk with our mouths, our skins, our hearts, and our souls. Sometimes we speak without words, and sometimes this is the greatest gift of all. There is great peace that comes with sharing one thought, one understanding, one worry between us.<br /><br />I didn't know love before I knew you. I knew you before I can remember. You are my all, my everything. My past, present and future belongs to you.<br /><br />With you.<br /><br />In you.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-87579967868194230712011-11-20T19:29:00.002-05:002011-11-20T20:19:44.812-05:00EnmeshedSometimes we struggle. We push and pull at each other, at the threads between us, at the ties that bind us. We strain against the fabric and look for tears to appear. And then all at once they come. Little rips that loosen the tension and we spring back, each of us gripping our edges in terror. At once grateful for the space, and panicked by the distance.<br /><br />And then comes the calm.<br /><br />Wordlessly we work from opposite ends of the universe. Weaving those threads together, closing the rips with respect and love. We meet somewhere in the middle in whispers, our hands working closely to tie knots in our mending, to bind together our tomorrows. We fix those tears with heartstrings, newly formed sinews that are forever unbreakable. Somewhere in our work we see our fears, anxieties, old hurts and future worries. We knit them together like an old quilt, a story of us. Before and after. Past, present and future.<br /><br />And somewhere, across the roadmap we have created, hides our souls. Stitched together with hope and reckless abandon. Somehow we have become one. And we are strong.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-882231611500184532011-09-19T17:09:00.005-04:002011-09-19T17:33:27.976-04:00Life is a runaway train you can't wait to jump onI had an epiphany last night. It's funny how that works... at first it seems like it comes smashing out of the blue and hits you, but when you look back you can see the rumblings of change across the landscape.<br /><br />Yesterday I lost my best friend. Or, what I thought was my best friend. It's funny how people change. That's what I get for choosing a chameleon for a partner in crime. What is more strange is how little the impact really is in the aftermath... there are those rumblings again. I guess you could say I saw it coming.<br /><br />We met over psychology and students in a random college auditorium one day. We were very different then, but somehow we fell into a fast friendship that hinged on coffee and ruckus days... college projects and observations. She became close to my children, and they began to look up to her. Over the years she became like a spouse, coming to holiday dinners at the parents, planning birthday parties for my children, spending long hours at the mall, sharing teary secrets on late night drives around a small town. She was a friend that became a sister - and we shared too many things to list on this tiny little blog.<br /><br />We don't fit like that anymore. I saw things that I didn't see before, watched as she became someone else, became like someone else, to please someone else. When that exploded, I ran to pick up her shattered heart and began the process of gluing those tiny little pieces back together. Tried to make her stronger, wiser. And then she did it again. And threw me under the bus for it. I felt like there was a perception of competition, a jealousy that need not exist. I did not, and would not, take what was hers. I didn't want it to begin with. Even then, we patched the holes in our little boat and marched forward a couple more years...<br /><br />See, I loved her. I love her still. The girl she was. I don't know the woman she is now, that belongs as half of another... she has taken on traits of another life that is different from mine. In place of loving my children, she now complains about them. She shows up for our girls night with him as well. Instead of standing up for what she loves, she pushes it aside for the wishes of another. She creates a new life from the pieces of his, and I do not belong to it. I wish her well. It breaks my heart that she has not mastered the art of integrating both pieces of her, but I will not stand silent while she tears me down as part of a unit... only because she is not strong enough to speak for herself. So here I am, waving goodbye on the front porch alone. I will miss her.<br /><br />I will miss you.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-77023846775555625782011-09-11T17:14:00.004-04:002011-09-11T17:21:12.794-04:00Ink on the PageI feel like I'm lost somewhere, floating in the middle of the vastness. My feet kick at the black depths beneath me and my arms ache from treading. Moments ago I could see you, waving to me from the concrete land, a speck in my periphery that kept me grounded. Now the dusk blots you out, and offers me nothing in the way of a lighthouse.<br /><br />I know I am encased in my own waters - that you did not cast me out alone, but then it does not change the loneliness that washes over me. The waves just keep coming, breaking over my shoulders and threatening to choke out my security. There is no bottom and no top, just disorienting darkness and salty traces.<br /><br />Forgive me - but it is filling my lungs and drowning me - I just need to get it out.<br /><br />Ink on the page.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-44063216462711053272011-09-05T14:45:00.002-04:002011-09-05T14:48:27.589-04:00Double Exposure PhotographyI've been working hard over here, partnering up with my very talented cousin to revamp Double Exposure Photography.<br /><br />I am very excited to announce our new website (we are still building our portfolios) and wanted to share it with you all!<br /><br />Come on over to <a href="http://www.doublexposurephotography.blogspot.com/">Double Exposure</a> and see what we've been up to!<br /><br /><br />Thanks!!<br /><br />DAG.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-80492759599611858242011-08-31T21:33:00.001-04:002011-08-31T21:35:32.444-04:00How He Sees Me<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V571xa4O62c/Tl7hRrzzp3I/AAAAAAAAASw/Z59f-Fh-6IQ/s1600/dag%2Beye%2Bsmall.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647198676703225714" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V571xa4O62c/Tl7hRrzzp3I/AAAAAAAAASw/Z59f-Fh-6IQ/s320/dag%2Beye%2Bsmall.jpg" /></a>
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<br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-8279198188541612602011-08-25T00:58:00.003-04:002011-08-25T01:26:46.124-04:00Light Up the SkyIt started as a tickle in the corner of my mouth... raising the edges involuntarily. It moved across my face, carving a hollow dimple in my cheek and leaving a twinkle in the deepest green recesses of my iris. It travelled the length of my body, across my skin and by the time I got to you - it radiated from the inside.
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<br />Like a firefly, I flickered, between mouthfuls of chocolate chip waffles. My eyes flashed at you over the table, and our legs pressed together as they always do. The heat spread from the palm of my hand into yours while you traced promises into my skin. Yesterday's stories could not call me away from you.
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<br />In the darkness of a near empty room, the world fell away. My arm crossed the length of your chest, my toes curled against yours. Time stopped, and all that was left was one breath between us - and we shared it willingly. The connection was made and we were powerless to break it.
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<br />In the waning hours of the evening it began to storm. Rain pelted down, fire crossed the sky on the backs of the angriest ancients, seams of clouds burst above me. And from the night you appeared all at once, flashlight in hand - rain collecting on your eyelashes - to kiss me one last time today. To protect me from nature's wrath, to secure our ties to forever. The electricity flashed inside the closing space between us.
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<br />You were the first, and the last, to wish me a happy birthday. After you had gone I let the rain fall on my skin, warm and cold all at once, reminding me. Once I thought I was transparent and longed to move <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">among</span> the real. Now I can barely remember anything but your love.
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<br />It crackles between us, around us, from within us - and catches the world on fire.
<br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-80754961732084694522011-08-20T18:57:00.003-04:002011-08-20T19:25:41.635-04:00I am honoured - OR - How I am completely humbled by the Universe once moreA <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">LOOOOONG</span> time ago, when I first moved my little thoughts to this corner of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">blogosphere</span>, I copied over a post I had written about cancer and <a href="http://doubleagentgirl.blogspot.com/2008/07/cancer-sarah-toller-and-divine.html">divine intervention.</a>
<br />This was a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">pivitol</span> moment in my life, where the intersection of fate and happenstance tripped into my path and it was proven, once and for all, that one person CAN change the world. Sarah <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Toller</span> fought a hard battle against melanoma, and ultimately she surrendered peacefully. However, not without changing my life forever first.
<br />A few months after her death, I was contacted by her mother about the post I had written. She wanted to use my post in a <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Wonderland-Cancerland-Sarah-Toller/dp/1425173020">memoir</a> she was compiling from Sarah's original blog, one she had kept over the course of a year during her illness. Of course I agreed, anything I can do to repay this woman, this family. And then I got busy with life.
<br />Recently, I started revisiting <a href="http://que-sarah-sarah.blogspot.com/">Sarah's original blog </a>and decided to search to see if the book had ever been published. It was, and I was soon to find out - my post made the final cut.
<br />The wee paragraphs I threw out into the universe, as a way to say thank you, to say I see you fate, to acknowledge there is something larger than me at work out there, are now the Epilogue to Sarah's story. I have been honoured to be a piece of that life, even after the fact - and to have a place at the end of this book.
<br />Thank you to Sarah's mother, who also recognized her daughter's hand in my story and wanted to share it with the world. I am eternally grateful to both of you - for giving me a shot to make a difference, however small that may be. And for giving me pages on which to tell my story - and the connections that are too close to be coincidence.
<br />We are eternally tied... and I will think of you always.
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<br />DAG.
<br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-58429488760695635482011-08-13T17:39:00.004-04:002011-08-13T21:18:12.301-04:00Simple MorningsA melodic tone drew me from my slumber, calling to me before the day. In your t-shirt and last night's jeans, I padded out to my car as the sun slivered over the horizon. Pink and purple skies made promises for the day, and somewhere nearby I found you. You were headed to me.
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<br />Minutes later we were wrapped in pale sheets, sharing our morning whispers. My skin warmed your chilled hands, your lips woke my soul. We shared breath together, wound around each other. There seemed no beginning and no end to us.
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<br />We spent hours like that, lost in each other as the sun rose higher and silenced the birds. We lounged, fingers entwined, feet pressed together, before picking up our discarded skins in favour of steaming coffee. Two cups, two hearts, two kisses goodbye. In your t-shirt I fell asleep again in the space where you had lain. In the afterglow, I wondered if I had been dreaming all along...until I found your scent on my pillows.
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<br />Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-52975517629419051232011-07-23T22:52:00.003-04:002011-07-30T01:01:26.764-04:00PebblesI have never felt like this. It washes over me when I'm not looking, this rush that travels through my veins, mixes with my blood - rockets through my soul, and leaves gooseflesh on its tail.<br /><br />There is this connection between you and I. A measure of heat when my palm slides into yours, an electricity that crackles between our parted lips. It has always been there. I have always known you, somewhere in my bones. In my dreams. In my molecules. I was meant to love you.<br /><br />Last night we hid in the shadows of the moon, clinging together in the cooling ripples. Your eyes reflected the stars pinned to the night sky and water lapped at our shoulders. In the quiet, we let our skin speak and our mouths rest. With dripping bodies, we climbed under the sheets and ate popsicles like teenagers. My heart was bursting with you, and I swore I could never be this happy.<br /><br />This afternoon we travelled the humid aisles of our favorite bookstore. Our eyes tripped from the titles of a thousand voices to each other, and back again in an unspoken dance. In the heat, I twisted my hair up with one hand. You stole behind me and whispered a kiss on my strawberry birthmark. I wondered how I could possibly love you more than right that second.<br /><br />This evening it rained pebbles on my bedroom window. When I peered over the sill, I saw you grinning up at me. And I fell in love with you all over again. You stepped off the pages of a fairy tale and into my arms. And then you set my paper heart aflame.<br /><br />Grow old with me, my sweetest love.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-63080500251994045582011-07-17T16:02:00.005-04:002011-07-17T16:08:23.873-04:00We Got Heart<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B4bdv0_Lly0/TiNAX0BOrXI/AAAAAAAAASg/st2K_W8b74U/s1600/DSCN0724.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630414736988220786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B4bdv0_Lly0/TiNAX0BOrXI/AAAAAAAAASg/st2K_W8b74U/s320/DSCN0724.JPG" /></a> It might have been a hundred degrees out there. The team may have gotten slaughtered EVERY game. You should have reached your limit by mid-afternoon.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SfIAsfBJB1U/TiNAEOw3QwI/AAAAAAAAASY/w5F0h8LeuRk/s1600/DSCN0684.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630414400569950978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SfIAsfBJB1U/TiNAEOw3QwI/AAAAAAAAASY/w5F0h8LeuRk/s320/DSCN0684.JPG" /></a> But you didn't. You played hard, rose to the challenge, bonded with the team and made me proud. We may not have a trophy - but we got heart. Good game kiddo.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-3936632054013652022011-07-15T22:46:00.008-04:002011-07-15T23:15:09.870-04:00Down the Rabbit Hole<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-My55nlo50jY/TiD_oB9LEqI/AAAAAAAAASQ/PEVpbKb4PPU/s1600/drink_me_bottle_sticker-p217900581304781825qjcl_400.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 223px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629780597397983906" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-My55nlo50jY/TiD_oB9LEqI/AAAAAAAAASQ/PEVpbKb4PPU/s320/drink_me_bottle_sticker-p217900581304781825qjcl_400.jpg" /></a> I woke up each morning to your beautiful artwork stretched out before me. Caught up in the remnants of sleepy, wistful dreams - before I knew the morning - I loved you. Entwined in the embrace of an old Hollywood love affair, we <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">hurriedly</span> planned our adventures.<br /><br />Long ribbons of highway spun out before us, long and winding roads where we got lost together. Lost in each other. We fell blissfully down the rabbit hole. I do not know where the time went, ticking away warm, sunny days. Mapping long afternoons in abandoned movie theatres. In the quiet evening darkness, minutes stole by to the sound of our heart beating. For you know that we share only one.<br />Over pancakes, eggs and steaming coffee - we lived. In Wonderland. Where you and I were the only sense in the nonsense, and the rabbit lost his pocket watch.<br /><br />Oh my ears and whiskers, if I had only knew the bliss I would find in you, I'd have drunk from the bottle <em>ages</em> ago.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6575623634994027953.post-82391899841953993372011-07-12T15:02:00.002-04:002011-07-12T15:10:49.809-04:00Words UnspokenYesterday you carved our initials in the tree. You chose the roots, instead of the trunk, where the tree is strongest. I watched in silence, through a mist of love and tears for its beauty. I didn't tell you then, but you were carving our initials into my tender heart, into the sinews where it beats hardest.<br />In the dark we laid, in a tangle of arms and legs, and whispered. My eyes spoke to yours, lit up by the reflections of the world around us. My breath met yours in the space between our lips, filled with the promises we do not need to speak.<br />This morning you wrapped yourself around me. Words travelled along your sweet lips to my ear, finding its way across my skin and into my soul. Stay with me always. My skin rose to meet your touch, the sound of your palm on my hip whispering to you...for always, my sweetest love.Double Agent Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07155118770673021822noreply@blogger.com0